


Little Bits 6

by genee



Category: Actor RPF, Friday Night Lights, Music RPF, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-16
Updated: 2007-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-12 19:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small collection of v short stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Bits 6

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azewewish](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=azewewish), [enoughoflove](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=enoughoflove), [mickeym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/gifts), [wendy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=wendy).



for mickeym, who asked for chris/jc, cold:  
    
Chris watches JC sleep, dark smudges under his eyes, wiry muscles and sharp bones and a tangle of blankets that's never quite enough, and he swallows hard, slides his fingers through JC's hair. Sometimes Chris wishes he still had connections in the business, could just pick up the phone and make a few suggestions, growl if had to, throw his weight around and make the right people listen, because JC works really goddamn hard, and he's really goddamn good, and there's really no one out there who deserves the attention more.

JC murmurs and pulls him closer, long legs twisting him all around, soft sounds too blurry for Chris to hear and Chris knows that even if he still had that kind of juice, he wouldn't use it. JC would find out, because JC always finds shit out, and he'd be pissed as hell, pissed enough to leave and maybe not come back, and Chris would risk almost anything for JC, but not that.

It's warm in their bed, and JC shivers against him, goosebumps racing across his skin. His dick is hot and hard against Chris's hip, and his voice is silky in Chris's ear, and Chris knows he won't ever risk losing JC. Not now, not ever. Not again.

   
   
 

for enoughoflove, who asked for tim/matt, please:  
   
Matt watches Julie and Tyra from across the field, sees how close they sit, shoulders touching, blonde hair caught up in the wind. Julie smiles, and he thinks he hears Tyra laughing, and neither one of them turns around and that's probably a good thing because Tim's standing right behind him now, one hand on his shoulder, talkin' dirty and pressing way too close.

"C'mon," Tim says, and Matt licks his lips, thinks about Julie's perfume and the way the sun catches the freckles on her skin. "C'mon," Tim says again, and Matt thinks about Tim's hands and Tim's mouth and the bruises on his ribs. He thinks about Tim's body pressed up against his and the scratch of his jaw, and Matt's got a hard on before Tim even says, "Please," his voice scratchy and hot in Matt's ear, like there's a chance Matt might really say no. Which, _Jesus_ , there isn't, there really really isn't.

Matt swallows, tries to find the words, but Tim just nods and tucks his hair behind his ear, and when he looks up he's all confidence again, smirking and talking low as they walk right on by the girls, hips bumping and Tim's long fingers tapping out some secret code.

   
   
 

for wendy, who asked for chris/nick, ice:  
   
Chris can't believe this is happening, Nick up on stage, all pale skin and flushed cheeks, his eyes closed and his voice all raw and open. It's too much like the first time for Chris to pretend he hasn't noticed even though he knows that's what he damn sure should be doing. This ain't the middle of nowhere, and it ain't Los Angeles yet, either. It's Nashville, and he's finally getting somewhere here, pretty blonde girl on his arm and a big smile for anyone who might be lookin', and Chris can't afford to fuck this up now.

He sucks on an ice chip from his glass, tries not think about the taste of Nick's skin with the sun shining all over it, tries not to remember the breathy sounds he makes when he comes. He tries, but it's impossible, Nick's just a few feet away, sweaty and singing and Chris feels the room start to buzz, everything going a little blurry and out of focus until Whitney leans in close and squeaks in his ear, "Oh my god, that's Nick Carter!" her eyes all bright and excited. Chris ducks his head for a second, thinks Nashville's more like LA every fuckin' day and maybe that ain't such a bad thing after all.

Chris says, "You wanna meet him, darlin'?" and he grins real easy, watches her think about her image, about whether or not she should. He stands up, nods at the stage, winks. "Me and Nick, we go way back," he says, grinning still, winding his fingers through hers as she bounces to her feet. "Don't be shy, now. I'll introduce y'all right."

   
   
 

for azewewish, who asked for steve/jensen, stars (an au):  
   
Steve remembers meeting him after a gig way downtown, remembers finding the little box of gold stars on the backseat, and the guy, Jensen, had blushed all pretty, his eyes crinkling up at the corners when he smiled. Steve thought maybe he was a teacher or something, and had sucked a bruise low on his throat, opened his jeans and jerked him off right there, neon painting his skin gold and blue. He'd almost asked him for his number, but instead he just winked and took one the stars, kissed him like it wasn't really goodbye.

And now here he is again, different bar, same smile, chalkboard dust on his shirtsleeves and his glasses reflecting the light. He sits by himself and drinks his beer, his eyes on Steve and his hand tapping against his thigh, and Steve can't make himself look away. After he stumbles over his own lyrics, twice, he finally just throws back his head and laughs. "No gold star for me tonight," he says, and when he looks back at Jensen he's got his face half hidden behind his fingers, but Steve can see he's laughing, too.  
   
 


End file.
